ude
and Faith. The former reminds us of Donatello's S. George; the
latter is twisted into a strained attitude, full of character, but
lacking grace. What the effect of these emblematic figures would
have been when harmonised by the architectural proportions of the
sepulchre, the repose of Aragazzi on his sarcophagus, the suavity of
the two square panels and the rhythmic beauty of the frieze, it is
not easy to conjecture. But rudely severed from their surroundings,
and exposed in isolation, one at each side of the altar, they leave
an impression of awkward discomfort on the memory. A certain
hardness, peculiar to the Florentine manner, is felt in them. But
this quality may have been intended by the sculptors for the sake of
contrast with what is eminently graceful, peaceful, and melodious in
the other fragments of the ruined masterpiece.

V

At a certain point in the main street, rather more than halfway from
the Albergo del Marzocco to the piazza, a tablet has been let into
the wall upon the left-hand side. This records the fact that here in
1454 was born Angelo Ambrogini, the special glory of Montepulciano,
the greatest classical scholar and the greatest Italian poet of the
fifteenth century. He is better known in the history of literature
as Poliziano, or Politianus, a name he took from his native city,
when he came, a marvellous boy, at the age of ten, to Florence, and
joined the household of Lorenzo de' Medici. He had already claims
upon Lorenzo's hospitality. For his father, Benedetto, by adopting
the cause of Piero de' Medici in Montepulciano, had exposed himself
to bitter feuds and hatred of his fellow-citizens. To this animosity
of party warfare he fell a victim a few years previously. We only
know that he was murdered, and that he left a helpless widow with
five children, of whom Angelo was the eldest. The Ambrogini or Cini
were a family of some importance in Montepulciano; and their
dwelling-house is a palace of considerable size. From its eastern
windows the eye can sweep that vast expanse of country, embracing
the lakes of Thrasymene and Chiusi, which has been already
described. What would have happened, we wonder, if Messer Benedetto,
the learned jurist, had not espoused the Medicean cause and
embroiled himself with murderous antagonists? Would the little
Angelo have grown up in this quiet town, and practised law, and
lived and died a citizen of Montepulciano? In that case the
lecture-rooms of Florenc